


Daybreak

by stygianalpha



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slight Canon Divergence, features OC Space Pirates and New Republic soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2382413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stygianalpha/pseuds/stygianalpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destroying a planet's population is a long, drawn-out process and Felix is easily annoyed by it. </p><p>..<br/>lolix drabbles, felix centric, that take place at unspecified times while on Chorus, before the reds & blues have crashed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. this is who you are

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted from tumblr. edited to adjust to the end of season 12.  
> drabbles were numbered for my convenience.
> 
> marked as complete as I'm sure I won't write another piece for this specific chain of drabbles. thank you for reading them and enjoying.

_i._

One thing about the New Republic, like a good thing, is that hot water isn’t a luxury. Yet, anyway. Turning on the faucet will absolutely guarantee hot water and, hell, scalding hot showers are an option. No one would say a damned thing either. Who would? At the rate all of the rebels come back from missions injured - or don’t come back at all - no one is going to say someone can’t have a fucking hot shower.

Which is a great thing since Felix likes his showers hot so the water can steam all the aches out of his muscles. Or, alternatively - Felix likes his showers hot and steaming and long because he’s busy like all the time and, yes, he ends up with aching muscles now and again. And nothing is as nice on aching muscles than hot water. The extra time to himself is just a bonus.

Even though the showers in the New Republic aren’t exactly private. Sure, there are stalls and the degree of privacy that comes with them, where no one can peek looks at anyone’s cock or ass, but there’s still the fact that when so many are crowded into one area to take showers, the idea of privacy is thin at best. When the conversations between others carry across the room, even with the constant running water; when people coming and going is punctuated by water shutting off or starting; privacy is a farce even in the showers. The most that can be done is to try and tune everyone else out and pretend they aren’t there. That this isn’t a shower built for a makeshift military movement. At the very least, try to pretend that the other people aren’t there. That the showers are empty and there’s no one to fucking ask Felix why there are bitemarks on his neck and collarbones.

Sure, okay, he isn’t in the shower yet and he still has his pants on - but there’s an unspoken rule that once Felix crosses the threshold of the showers, don’t. Just fucking don’t. And there are so many things wrong with asking that.

So many that Felix actually isn’t quite sure where he’s supposed to start.

They’re half-healed bites, _first of all,_ layered over bruises that are started to fade but a few still have a nasty yellow tinge. One in particular had actually broken his skin, drawing blood over a bruise that has yet to change from a mottled purple - and that one only exists because Felix let his guard down like a goddamn idiot. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that Felix stopped paying attention to the pain and how hard he was being bitten because getting fucked like that was pretty distracting.

Second: Why the fuck would anyone approach Felix in the goddamn showers? Why would they approach him anywhere? He’s not their friend, he has given off no signals that he wants to be pals or buddies or anything. Especially not to the point that someone can approach him in the goddamn shower - really, there’s no way for that to be stressed enough. Kind of mildly creepy, too.

Third: Why would this idiot ask anyone about bitemarks, let alone Felix?

And he is an idiot, this rebel standing by Felix now. Some pretend soldier, young and unmarred by war with tousled hair and staring at Felix with too much curiosity. It’s irritating, just the look this guy is giving him because they aren’t friends -hell Felix doesn’t even know his name - but there he stands. waiting for an answer. Felix wants to tell him that he’s a goddamn idiot and is probably going to be the cause of his own death or the death of his friends or both - but instead what he says is “Why the hell are you talking to me? In the showers, even?” He frowns at the rebel soldier, who blinks and looks a little bit less interested in Felix already. Like the poor kid has suddenly changed his mind about approaching the hired mercenary. “Showers are usually a very private thing - like, honestly, you are lucky I have pants on right now.”

The kid mumbles an apology, looking at the ceiling.

It’s true though - in like two more seconds, Felix would not have been wearing pants. They’re already undone, it’d be a nice show for anyone that wasn’t a scrawny little shitfaced rebel. The apology goes ignored because, hell, now Felix is kind of on a roll. “Look, kid, uh…” He starts to offer his name and Felix rolls over his voice. “No, I don’t really care. Kid. You are a fucking idiot. And this - well, this is a life lesson for you because apparently no one ever taught you this. See, when you’re in a public shower, the first rule is don’t fucking talk to people. Unless you know them - like really know them - just don’t do it. It’s… it’s disturbing. Kind of gross, really weird, and isn’t going to make you friends. And God knows you don’t have any.”

Here, the poor kid mutters something about Felix being rude and how he does so have friends.

Felix, of course, ignores that. “If you want to survive in this army,” he says. “in this war, don’t become the weird kid who talks to half-naked men in the showers. Don’t even be the kid who approaches half-naked men in the showers, or looks at them or…”

The kid says, “I’m twenty-three…” When that gets ignored too, he sighs. “Look, okay, I’m sorry. It was stupid.”

“You’re right. It was.”

“It’s just…” He shrugs one shoulder, looking back at Felix with one hell of a nervous expression. No way he’s twenty-three. “One of those bites kind of looks bad…”

Felix blinks. He knows how bad they look. “Really,” he says in a voice as close to neutral as he could get it. Despite his voice, he looks like he wants to slam this idiot soldier’s head into the wall and the kid cringes back again. What an easily frightened little shit. Felix thinks that this one isn’t going to survive the month. “I can take care of myself.”

“Human bites are supposed to be… y’know… bad,” the kid offers. He’s taken a few steps back from Felix, eyes flicking from the bite in question to an open shower and back again. “Shouldn’t you see a medic?”

“Medics ask questions.” Felix has considered it before, but very briefly. Walking up to a medic with a request as specific as ‘please examine this bite, it’s gotten pretty bad’ didn’t seem like a good idea. Neither did ‘hi, my asshole partner bit me too hard during sex because I can’t concentrate when we fuck’. That was probably worse.

“Yeah, but - “

“What do you expect me to say to a medic? ‘Hey, I got bit on the neck! I know it looks bad, but I totally asked for it.’ That sounds ridiculous.” He frowns at the soldier, who starts to edge off toward the showers. “You do know where I got the bites, right?’

And then the poor idiot hesitates, eyes widening as he looks back at Felix’s bitemarks.  “I, uh…” he stutters for a few more seconds before falling silent, but Felix is sure he knows the answer.

So he doesn’t have to say it. He could, but by this point it would only be for pure shock value and this fake soldier looks as if he wants to melt into the floor just to get away. Felix considers marching the kid back outside and yelling loud enough for anyone to hear him, tell some of the New Republic soldiers that he’s caught himself a pervert in the showers, weave a good story about the twerp sneaking looks into stalls. But - again - petty bullshit, part shock value, pointless. So he doesn’t, and the guy runs toward the empty shower stall so fast he slips in the water covering the floor.

Felix glances at himself in the mirror, and sighs at the dark circles under his eyes. He’s a good-looking dude, but these shadowed eyes aren’t making him look more appealing. Just really fuckiing tired. He looks at himself, leans closer to prod under one of his eyes, and thinks that it would be so easy to ruin the lives of these soldiers. Not just kill them, but actually make the rest of their short lives miserable. And he thinks how maybe he should take off for a bit soon, just by himself, until he can sort out his own thoughts again. ‘Cause, really, he shouldn’t be thinking of how to ruin an idiot’s life just for approaching him. He’s supposed to be someone that the New Republic can depend on, after all, which includes the idiots among them. Ruining their lives can come later, hopefully in the way of a bullet in their skulls.

He also thinks that he needs one hell of a long shower and then a good night’s rest.

_ii._

The biggest thing about this Chorus job isn’t the undercover work, its not knowing that all these rebels parading around are going to have to die for his paycheck - and it’s not that he can’t kill them right now either. Because he could, he really could. Maybe not on his own. Maybe actually call on those fucking asshole pirates for help, maybe drag Locus out for a big show before executing Kimball in front of the idiots. But no, he can’t really do any of that. Even taking them out on missions and letting them die couldn’t happen too often since coming back on his own was just a gigantic red flag that something had gone wrong. And coming back alone all the time would be akin to painting himself as a terrible soldier and that… that just couldn’t happen.

But none of that was the biggest thing - it might be the most frustrating, but the biggest issue with Chorus comes with the fact that this whole fucking thing has to be done in tandem with Locus. And its just a little difficult to conduct a planet-wide massacre when his partner is with the Feds and they have shit for communication. A few calls every now and again, between the two of them, with Control - yeah, not fun. Hardly any details given in either case. Mostly because Felix tends to derail their conversations very quickly, but whatever. Point still stood.

Where is Locus going? No idea. How many people are left? Somewhere between a lot and a hell of a lot. How long is going to take? Fuckin’ forever. Is Locus going to be at this base the New Republic is eyeing up? Is Felix going to infiltrate said base and end up deflecting shots from the asshole? No fuckin’ clue.

No idea about anything. Go in blind. Kill Feds, though, always kill the Feds. Blow them up, blow up their vehicles, shoot them, stab them, beat them until their unconscious and shoot them some more for good measure. If the rebels die, so be it - but save enough of them to keep position as paid loyal mercenary in tact.  And do it all while keeping an eye out for Locus.  And making sure not to accidentally blast his limbs off with well-placed bombs because, yeah, that’s almost happened at least twice now.

Its not that Felix can’t do it, can’t handle everything this job entails. Felix can do _anything,_ he’s just that fucking good.

But it is goddamn irritating. And Locus can be such an asshole about bombs nearly taking his legs out - as if Felix would have been careless enough to let that happen, honestly. Doesn’t matter how many times he says he’s not a fucking idiot, that he knows what he’s doing, that if he had been caught in the blast that Felix would have helped him. Nah, none of that matters because Locus’s opinion is always that Felix is at fault when something goes wrong, that Felix isn’t paying enough attention to what he’s doing, _bombs shouldn’t go there, where did you even get all these? This is a delicate job, Felix, very important, don’t mess it up._ It’s not often they have time to actually talk and most of those ‘talks’ just end up with Felix and Locus at each others throats while some of those black-suited bastards look on, silent behind those frosted visors.

Maybe if the two of them had time alone - like actually alone, without Feds or the rebels or the pirates - actual time to themselves… Maybe then they could figure things out without Felix getting annoyed, or Locus getting irritated with him never shutting up. They could actually talk like human beings, like the partners they are. And that’s part of the problem, absolutely. It’s a little hard to work with the guy when the only time they get to talk privately is over a radio and most of their face-to-face encounters are in battle. Fuck, what he wouldn’t do for, like, a night alone with Locus. Just one fucking night, it’d be brilliant, might work wonders on how strained they’ve become.

And those fucking pirates. They’re always hanging around, but not a single one of them ever has much to say. Felix thinks they just watch the two of them argue, like its some kind of show. He cements this idea in the fact that once, when Locus had turned to leave, Felix had picked a rock off the ground and casually thrown it at the back of his smug ass head. Locus had frozen, turned, and glared - and no said anything but this one girl on the team who just sighed and muttered, “For god’s sake.”

That was also the time Felix had decided he didn’t particularly like that girl.

And of course its her that greets him today when he walks up to the small building the pirates have cleared out. Some two-story thing, its paint chipped almost completely away to the steel beneath it. All of the pirates are in black armor, wandering around and talking together quietly - except for this one girl. She’s sitting outside, apparently waiting for him to show up because she’s on her feet the instant he starts advancing, some bullshit greeting spilling out. “How have you been?” she asks, and he’s sure she doesn’t really care.

So, naturally, Felix sighs dramatically, leans against the building’s doorway next to her, and complains. The rebels are terrible, he says. Bad soldiers, pretty stupid too; they argued over food recently, of all fuckin things; someone tried to talk to Felix in the showers - “Can you believe it? I was like one second away from not wearing pants and this kid thinks he can have a nice friendly chat.” It isn’t too long before the girl politely excuses herself and walks away towards two of her teammates.

Felix is feeling pretty good when he finally enters the building. Its some kind of station - Refueling? Mechanics place? Something like that. - and the pirates have absolutely decimated anyone that was inside. Only two bodies are actually there, slumped against a wall with bullets in their brains, but he can bet that some of them were just disintegrated. There’s at least one sadistic bastard on that squad that gets a kick out of turning someone to dust. But today none of that is Felix’s problem. He’s here to talk to Locus, to get at least a little more detail about what’s been going on because he is so completely out of the loop with these guys. These black clad assholes going around contact Locus, he knows that, and while he’s gotten calls from them a few time, he isn’t their first choice and he knows it.

What’s so great about Locus is a goddamned mystery. He isn’t up to anything special today either, just talking to one of the pirates in one of the upstairs rooms. Since it isn’t exactly the largest building they’ve cleared out, even with a second story, it doesn’t take too long to find them and it also doesn’t take Felix too long to interrupt their conversation with a loud greeting and a pointed comment about how there’s unwanted company in the room. It doesn’t have the effect he wants.

The guy in black, he says, “How long are you staying this time?”

Felix frowns. “As long as I want. Kimball thinks I’m on a scouting mission, so I could show up two days later and no one can really fault me.” It’s over-exaggeration but it has the wanted effect because the guy sighs and nods once. “That was code for get the fuck out,” Felix adds.

The guy only relents and leaves when Locus orders him to and, yeah, that’s a fast way to annoy the fuck out of Felix.

“Who the fuck was that?” he asks.

Locus says, “Jackson.”

“Jackson is an asshole.”

“Jackson gets his job done.”

“Yeah? Good for him. He’s still an asshole.” Felix crosses the space between them in three steps, reaching up to pull his helmet off. Locus still wears his, but that’s no surprise. Felix likes the fresh air though, and a little time out of the armor even if its just for a few minutes. “Anything new?’

Any more details. Anything about how many people are left to kill, how long it’ll be before they’re off this fucking rock, how much longer until Felix gets a big paycheck and can treat himself to something nice. The answers, of course, haven’t changed: There’s barely a dent in the count, but that’s alright because the idiots are destroying themselves in the war faster than previously thought. There’s still a long time before it’s finished and Felix cuts Locus off with a low noise here before the word ‘years’ can come up again. The thought of spending so much time on this planet, with the New Republic, feeding their soldiers pretty words and encouraging thoughts is just exhausting. It’s not a long conversation and Locus’s short sentences are annoying today, so Felix prepares himself to leave. Go crawling back to Kimball and tell her that he didn’t find anything worth noting. Though maybe he should find some more weapons somewhere first, she was always a little pleased with weapons being brought in.

Then Locus is pulling off his own helmet and Felix isn’t paying too much attention anymore, so his only warning is Locus grasping his jaw before he’s being kissed. It can only be described as domineering and hungry, forceful. The fabric of the suit covering Locus’s hands is rough, scratching along Felix’s jaw and his cheekbones as Locus’s fingers move over his face - but Locus is warm and Felix hums low in his throat. He smirks at the reaction, laughing as Locus grip tightens and he pulls back just an inch to glare. Really, all it takes is the right noises and Felix can have Locus doing whatever he wants. Just that easy. He only stops laughing to lick his lips slowly, forcing a noise low in his throat - quiet, needy bullshit that Locus devours with another brutal kiss.

There’s footsteps coming down the hall and Locus releases Felix just as someone crosses the threshold. Whoever it is, they have the same helmet as that fuck from earlier and Felix narrows his eyes. “You better not be Jackson,” he says.

“I… no, I’m not Jackson,” the pirate says. “Jackson is cooking. Wants to know if you’re staying.” He pauses, adds, “Both of you.”

Felix is curious what counts as cooking in a place like this with blood and corpses, because it can’t be good. He’s staying anyway. Whatever they’re having for dinner, it had to be better than rations or the poor quality bullshit served with the rebels. The pirate leaves and Felix turns back to face Locus. “What does it mean when Jackson cooks?” he asks.

“He caught something,” Locus answers.

Sounds good enough, Felix thinks. The kiss has faded back. The mood is gone too, sliced to shreds by the intrusion, so Felix is pulled back into another conversation he doesn’t want to have. He settles for insulting Locus and talking more than he should, a cheap substitute to get a rise out of the other man that doesn’t involve a tongue in his mouth.


	2. one day we will listen for the sirens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this should have been tacked onto the first one but i had to rewrite smut and didn't feel like it until just now.

_iii._

Turns out that Jackson cooking just equates him practically spit-firing some pathetic looking animal. It’s greasy and slightly burned, absolute trash. And Felix eats at least twice his share out of fucking spite for how long it took for the shit to be done. It had only taken five minutes of waiting for Felix to start pulling off his armor. Listening to Locus was annoying, insulting and baiting Locus served to backfire and piss him off too, and by the time the meat had been cooked both of them were angry and Felix had shed all of his armor. Which also means he is the only one of the whole group - him and Locus and the six or seven pirates - that is shoveling greasy meat into his mouth while wearing only the kevlar undersuit. He’d even pulled the gloves off - which was a great decision in retrospect ‘cause now he could pick up this terrible food with his fingers.

No one says anything while they eat, which is a blessed act in itself. They eat where the dead bodies had been - where they went, Felix doesn’t know and he doesn’t care because right now the most important thing to do is eat this shitty food. Three of the pirates are sitting in the middle of the floor with actual fucking plates and the thought crosses his mind that this is probably completely normal for them. Which is fucked up. Felix would never eat his food so casually in a room where corpses had been moments before. Well... except for today. It was like a special occasion.

Jackson - asshole Jackson, squad leader of asshole pirates - frowns in distaste the whole time Felix is there. Good. Somehow that is a very good thing, Felix can feel it. The other pirates don’t look too enthused with him either, but that’s probably because he took part of their food. When he finishes, Felix wipes the grease off his fingers onto some scrap of cloth and tosses it in lazily toward the circle of pirates. He leaves in a slightly better mood than he was in before.

He heads back to the room where he left his armor, thinking that maybe he should just put all of it back on again and leave because clearly he’s not going to get anymore information. Or anything at all, really. Coming out here was turning out to be the biggest waste of his time.

The room he had left his armor in, it’s small and it looks like somewhere the attendees of this building just relaxed in. There’s a few crates in one corner, pushed there in a heap. A fridge, sitting open an inch as if someone had been opening it. He can see some poor idiot getting vaporized before even knowing what was happening. There’s an open window too, and when Felix goes to look out of of it, a smear of blood is at the very edge of it. And right below it, another dead man.

Lovely.

Most importantly, there is a cot with a couple of blankets in one corner and Felix stretches out on it for a few minutes relaxation. He doesn’t realize he’s actually fallen asleep on it until the sound of a vehicle revving jerks him awake and he vaults off the bed. At the window, all he sees is a pair of black suited bastards playing around with a Warthog.

They have to be playing with it because one of them is sitting on the hood and the other is pressing on the gas and getting nowhere - pushing the brakes too, sending clouds of dust flying. Like they’re children. Felix watches for a couple of minutes until the rest of the pirates stroll around the side of the building. He can hear Jackson barking orders even from a floor above and damn if the others don’t snap into action. Felix backs away then because if his life has gotten so boring that he’s going to watch a squad of pirates fuss over some old Warthog, he has lost control of himself. In pretty much the worst way possible.

Something about this place, this empty building in the middle of nowhere on a planet no one cares about, is lulling Felix into being more relaxed than he’s been in a while. There isn’t much in the way of a threat out here, with the only sounds being birds and the wind and that goddamn revving Warthog - but at least the last is fading into the distance. The pirates must have taken off. Now there’s just this sense of calm, like there isn’t a thing out here right now that can be a threat to him.

He blames this entire place for the fact that he backs right into Locus. Didn’t even hear him come up, but now there’s arms wrapped around him. One of Locus’s hands slides slowly down his stomach, the other is running up his chest. Locus has shed his armor, and Felix leans against him, into the heat and the chest pressed against his back. He says, “Y’know for a guy your size, you’re really quiet. It’s kind of annoying.” He could go on about that but Locus is slipping fingers past his belt and that is just a little bit distracting.

Or, no, make that very distracting because Locus shoves his hand into Felix’s pants then, running his fingers over Felix’s cock. It doesn’t help any that Locus is kissing and biting at the edge of his jawline, or that he seems hellbent on pulling the kevlar suit off of Felix. His breath is warm on Felix’s neck, hand still working to make him hard - stroking and squeezing, thumb sliding over the head - and Felix whines. He bucks into Locus’s hand, head falling against the other man’s shoulder, hands reaching behind him to grab at Locus’s thighs and squeeze.

There might have been a time once where he would be ashamed of himself for being turned on so quickly by this fuckin asshole but right now all he can think is that there are way too many layers between the two of them.

Maybe its all the pent up anger he’s had to push through lately, or the arguments over the radio with Locus over the past few days that never really went anywhere; or the petty comments and rising anger just that day. Maybe it’s because even if they won’t ever talk it, that kiss from earlier is seared into his brain. Unfinished business, so to speak. Unfinished in the way that if that asshole hadn’t come into the room, Felix would have been aching to get out of his armor then and there. Open door, building crawling with pirates - wouldn’t have mattered.

The point is - Felix has endured a lot of bullshit, built up a lot of tension, and now all he wants is for Locus to keep going.

And it’s like as soon as he admits this to himself, as soon as he falls into a rhythm - moving eagerly into the hand that’s pumping his cock - that’s when Locus stops. He pulls his hand away, rests both of them on Felix’s hips and growls into his ear: “Strip. Now.”

No use in arguing against that. Felix pulls away, reaching back to yank at the suit, to get it off because it’s really too confining now. His dick is hard, heart pounding, and when he turns to Locus, the guy’s just standing there. He’s has shed his armor, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to take off anything else. There’s a ferocity in his eyes, an all-too-familiar glint that tells Felix right away that is not going to be one of the more pleasant times. Still, naked and hard, Felix says wearily, “It’s not too late to back out of this, is it?”

Locus answers by throwing him back against the pitiful cot in the corner. By grabbing Felix and forcing him to lie on his stomach, knees on the floor. One of Locus’s hands twists in his hair before he can move and then Locus is behind him, pressing his hips against Felix’s. With his head forced against the cot, hands gripping the blankets in anticipation, Felix can feel Locus’s cock on his ass even through the layers.

He takes a deep breath, biting at the piercings in his lip.

Pretends it isn’t obvious how bad he wants this.

And waits.

Locus says, “Don’t move.” It’s more like an order, one that Felix is forced to obey. He’s been through this before. If he moves, Locus would leaving him kneeling there to take care of his own problem. 

So he stills, and Locus starts running his hands down Felix’s back, digging into the skin just enough to leave light scratches behind. It’s barely anything, not enough to show over the tattoos, but the pressure is there and Locus’s hands are warm. Always so warm. His fingers leave trails of heat as he slides his hands over Felix’s ass. With one hand, Locus strokes his cock agonizingly slow, rubbing the other one over the inside his thigh and back around to his ass. Teasing, nothing but teasing.

Felix hisses, fighting the urge to thrust into Locus’s hand and make him go faster. This is torture. This is bullshit. The contrast between the heat of Locus’s hand and the cool air everywhere else is bad enough, but the rough fabric of the suit that Locus has refused to take off is scratching against his skin in a way that only makes it all better. And when Locus leans over him, all he says is “Felix.”

In answer, Felix whines. high-pitched and keening.

Locus stops stroking. He repeats himself - “Felix.”

“Oh - god - _what?”_ Felix groans. He squirms against Locus, against his body pressed in on him, against Locus’s hand that he refuses to move.

There’s a smirk in Locus’s voice when he says, “Say it.”

Felix groans again, wordless and angry and breathless - because this... this is what he hates. Because Locus has this thing, this need for dominance and power over him, and sometimes he likes to make Felix beg for it, to plead in choked whispers until he finally relents. And it’s embarrassing.  

It’s like Locus can sense his reluctance. His hands trail over Felix’s body, roaming, and he leaves light scratches everywhere. There are no marks, it’s not hard enough to leave marks because he’s only doing it to frustrate Felix - and to Felix’s growing annoyance, it’s working very well. His breathing is shallow and its taking a lot of willpower not to snap at Locus for letting go of his dick. He lets it go on for a little while longer, still not moving beyond tensing just slightly every time Locus’s fingers graze his thighs. Locus speaks to him lowly, voice rough and gravelly, saying, “Tell me what you want. I need to hear you say it, Felix.”

Felix grounds out, “You’re a goddamn asshole.” In answer, he gets teeth grazing his neck along the healing bites and mottled bruises. “Fucking tease,” Felix says. It ends with a gasp as Locus bites down.

Locus straightens, and his hands leave him for a second before one returns, sliding over his thigh, up and down and just barely missing his cock. Felix can feel his resolve crumbling even before the pressure of Locus’s hips against his pull back and a slick finger slides into him. If it’s even possible, Felix tenses more, gritting his teeth. Locus brings his other hand to Felix’s hair, yanking his head to an angle so he can bite and mouth along his neck freely. He doesn’t speak again until he’s got two fingers inside Felix, moving slowly, pressing against just the right spot. Doesn’t say a word until Felix is squirming and biting his lips to try and hold back whimpers and moans, until his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s rocking against the fingers inside him.

He says, “If you want me to fuck you, beg for it. Beg me, and maybe I’ll give it to you.” When Felix doesn’t answer, he adds another finger, thrusting, twisting. Felix doesn’t even try to muffle the noise that rises out of his throat. “You’re already desperate,” Locus says, and Felix feels the heat flaring across his cheeks. Desperate is an understatement. “Plead, Felix. Beg.”

There’s a beat, a moment where Felix curses himself before he says, breathless, “Fuck me. _Please_ fuck me. I need it, I need you - need your cock, need you to fuck me - please, Locus...” Locus’s fingers slide out of him and he groans, twisting the sheets and trying to hide his face in it. Embarrassing, so embarrassing… So needy. Pathetic. Even with his face buried in the blankets, he mutters, “Please fuck me.”

And then Locus is pulling away, and Felix pushes himself up on his elbows, watching Locus pulling himself out. He has enough time to see the lube in one of Locus’s hands and wonder if the guy carries it around with him before he’s shoved back onto the cot. Felix listens to Locus groan as he readies himself; he braces himself for it, and still has no time to adjust before Locus is pushing into him. It feels like he’s actually got the entire length of Locus’s cock in him and damn, that’s exactly what he needed.

There’s no time to really do anything besides inhale sharply before Locus is moving again. It’s all fast and hard, Locus pounding into him hard enough to slam the edge of Felix’s stomach into the cot. Short, rough thrusts; Locus only pulls out a little bit, just enough to snap back in. It hurts, but Felix is moaning with each movement rather than objecting, grasping the balled up blankets as he does. Every thrust comes with the suit Locus still wears rubbing against Felix’s back and scraping across the back of his thighs.

Locus is still biting along his neck, panting and grunting into Felix’s ear. Sometimes he says things, but it sounds like Spanish. Doesn’t matter that Felix can’t speak it, it sounds good, sounds great rolling out of Locus’s mouth in those low, husky tones. He listens to it, moaning and cursing, wanting to rock back into Locus’s hips with each thrust. But he can’t. Locus’s hands are holding him down so he can’t move. It’s not just Locus’s hands gripping him so tight, it’s the other man’s entire weight pressing against his back and pushing him into the cot.

The only warning Felix can give before he comes is a strangled volley of curses and gasps. Locus reaches down with one hand to stroke Felix in pace with his thrusts, and Felix hits orgasm with an embarrassingly loud cry. Locus actually laughs then, out of breath. He bites Felix once more before pulling out of him. And in that moment, Felix is content to just stay there. Not moving sounds like a great idea, because he is exhausted. It’s actually kind of pleasant as he coasts through the afterglow.

But then Locus takes him by both arms and wrenches him backwards. He lands on his ass and glares at Locus. “Fuck you,” Felix says. It lacks the venom it usually has, but he’s still reeling from actually being fucked hard enough to scream, from having one hell of an intense orgasm. He knows what Locus wants though, or at least he thinks he does. Seriously - still reeling, still breathing harshly. He raises one hand to Locus’s cock, stroking slowly. It’d be easier to blow the guy, but there is no way Felix is going to put a dick in his mouth that had just been in his ass.

Locus seems to get this because he takes Felix’s jaw in one hand, forces his mouth open with two of his fingers. Felix lets him, drools over the fingers in his mouth as he moves his hand faster. He listens to the quiet noises Locus makes, enjoying it - but then Locus’s free hand winds into his hair, holds him before his dick. Felix snaps his eyes shut the instant Locus comes, making a face. Most of the mess lands in his mouth, thankfully. He can just spit that out.

And then Locus slaps a hand over his mouth and Felix exhales sharply through his nose, glaring. This is the lowest part of the whole thing, Felix thinks, because being fucked into some dead guy’s cot is nothing compared to what’s sitting in his mouth. He’s fine with blowjobs, fine with handjobs, fine with Locus coming on his face even - not too pleased with being forced to sit here with the fucker’s jizz in his mouth. He wants to tell Locus to back the fuck off now but all that comes out is a muffled, angry noise.

“Swallow it,” Locus commands. He’s smirking.

What an asshole. He swallows it anyway, only choking a little bit as it goes down. Locus looks smug as he stands, adjusting himself. He walks off for a second, and then a filthy rag is tossed in Felix’s direction. At least Locus was nice enough to find him something to clean his face off with.

Felix sits there, wiping his hand over his face to make sure it’s all gone, and he coughs. The scratches littering his body sting and the taste of Locus is still heavy in his mouth. He has the feeling that he’s going to ache a hell of a lot later and that all Locus is going to do is laugh.

He glances out the open window as he’s yanking the suit back over his legs, and right when he does one of the pirates glances up. The black paint glints in the dim sunlight but that visor is absolutely pointed in Felix’s direction - and then they just look back down, cleaning the rifle in their lap. Felix thinks that this guy, or girl, or whatever, they have been there the whole goddamn time. Not all of them had left earlier, disappearing with that sputtering Warthog. All the loud noises he had made comes flooding back, the loud cries, the begging - and with heat rushing to his face, Felix snarls, “You knew.”

He’s not facing Locus but that low laugh is enough of an answer.

“You _fucking_ douchebag.”

Then Locus says, “They already know.”

Felix turns to face him, ready to argue that because hell no, they did not. No one knows. And that’s the way it’s supposed to stay.

Locus just looks at him, smiles, and adds, “You’re never quiet.” He close the distance between them quickly, taking Felix’s jaw in his hands and kissing him again. Long, slow, and Felix is annoyed that it’s not as rough as the way they just fucked - but it’s good, and it’s like Locus draws all the irritation out of him with just that one kiss.

It’s only nice for as long as they’re kissing, because the instant they separate, Locus adds, “There was no way you were going to be quiet today anyway. Not after all of that begging…” He trails his fingers over Felix’s face, running his thumb over his bottom lip.

Felix snaps at his finger and misses.

Locus laughs again, quiet, low, and mocking.

As annoyed as he acts, it’s superficial because the sex and that goddamn kiss has relaxed Felix completely. He’s certain right then that, if he didn’t have to go back to the New Republic, he would end up in Locus’s arms at some point. For the contact, and the comfort, and the long kisses he could get that way. He snaps his armor back on slowly, wishing even more for just a day alone with Locus. Just one fucking day.

_iv._

“Y’know what I never wanted to know?”

One of the pirates, one of the women, she had taken it upon herself to dog his footsteps as Felix heads back to the New Republic. She wasn’t the one he hated, this was the other one, the quieter one. Introduced herself as Val. She was the only one who had spoken to him when he left and now she wouldn’t shut up, and Felix takes back that comment. Val isn’t quiet. Val’s noisy and annoying and he’s wishing more than ever that murdering these guys was part of the plan too.

“I don’t care,” Felix says. “Why don’t you leave? Go back to your friends. Go do your job and stop following me.”

She ignores him. “Felix. Pal. Friend.”

He sighs. Wants to tell her that they aren’t friends, and never will be. That he didn’t even know her name until ten minutes ago.

“I have never in my life wanted to know what it sounds like when you orgasm. But now I do. And that is something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my natural life.”

“I could shorten it for you.”

“Not a chance.”


	3. sit back and look for the warnings

_v._

Today, for them, is a normal day. It probably shouldn’t be a normal day, considering that their current job is walking through an empty battlefield and looking for survivors. There’s a very small chance they’ll find anyone and it’s becoming more obvious the longer they’re out there. The whole place seems oddly empty, aside from the dead. There’s scorch marks from grenades, bullet holes in the trees. Even the small outpost itself is silent. It towers over the open ground, casting shadows into the nearby trees, forcing the eye from fallen soldiers to itself.

Shaun stands in the shadow of the outpost, craning his neck up to look at it. He’s trying to listen for any kind of noise that would give him a reason to go into it. It’s only two stories, but the first one looks to have a high-ceiling and makes it look larger than it is, giving it that special looming effect. He really doesn’t want to in there.

His partner for today is Becca and she has already retreated back to the Warthog. She said it was a pointless venture before she left him, though, which makes him think that, yeah, he shouldn’t have to go in there at all. All of the Republic soldiers they’ve found were dead, anyway.

Shaun casts one more look up at the dark second story before turning and heading back to the ‘Hog. “Yeah, I don’t think there’s anyone in there,” he says. He climbs into the driver’s seat; Becca has taken the passenger seat and is currently examining a digital reader in her lap. “Kind of creepy.”

She nods but he knows she isn’t listening. “There’s another outpost about five kilometers up the road,” she says, gesturing vaguely in front of them. “Some of our guys might have fled there before heading back to base.”

It’s a vain hope, but it’s something. The dead they had found didn’t add up with the numbers they had gotten from Kimball before they left. Of course, this particular squadron had gone missing nearly a day ago. Kimball had said that she was entrusting this job to them only because the mercenary hadn’t come back yet either. He had been her first choice to send out, alone so as not to endanger more of her soldiers than need be, and silence on his end wasn’t making anyone feel better. And so Shaun grabbed Becca, took one of their few Warthogs, and off they went with the vain hope to find soldiers.

Also Felix, though that asshole was much lower on the priority list in Shaun’s opinion. He’d rather find live soldiers, his friends and brothers in arms, not some smug asshole mercenary that couldn’t be trusted unless he was being paid.

When Shaun drives off from the empty outpost, he’s thinking that he and Becca, they should have been backup. They shouldn’t have been the ones to have this assignment. He had said as much when they pulled up to the outpost - “We should have been here to help them,” he had said. “We could have - we might’ve - “

Becca had been able to calm him down then, not by agreeing with him, but by telling him that if they had been there, they would have become two more casualties. Now, when he says that he doesn’t think they’ll find much more than more corpses, he can hear the bitterness in his own voice. So it’s no surprise that she can too, or that she looks up from the reader to say, “We’re here to help Kimball, Shaun. These guys just dropped off the grid. There’s no telling whether they’re all dead or not, and I only counted three bodies by that outpost.”

“I know.”

“So, where’s the rest of them, huh?”

Shaun sighs. “I don’t know.”

“They could be alive.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I’m not a bitter asshole, so sue me if I choose to stick to believing someone’s alive.”

Shaun doesn’t answer. He grips the Warthog’s wheel tighter, speeds forward. He listens to Becca as she tells him that the next outpost will be on their right. She doesn’t say anything else.

There were seven people on the missing squad they had to account for. The reader Becca has is also a camera and a transmitter and a hell of a lot of other things, and she had used it to photograph the first outpost and the bodies they found. He isn’t sure what she had done after that, he hadn’t been watching, but he’s willing to bet that she sent the information to Kimball through encrypted messages. She is the more efficient soldier, after all. Shaun just drives and shoots anyone in white armor.

By the time he’s pulled the Warthog to a stop at the next outpost, Becca has already jumped out of her seat. The reader she leaves behind, reaching for the rifle on her back instead. This outpost is about the same size as the last one, strangely tall first floor and everything. There are no dead bodies visible on the grounds, and though this fact seems to cheer Becca up, it makes Shaun’s heart sink. If there are no dead bodies, they’ll have to keep searching.

Which means going into this damned outpost.

The sun is starting to set and clouds have started to gather, setting a gloomy mood. When Becca steps into the outpost, the first thing Shaun notices is the overlapping shadows and the lack of light. Oh, right. And the two dead soldiers in the first room. Their soldiers.

Becca curses. She starts to head back to the Warthog, but Shaun is blocking the doorway. She says, “Move, Shaun.”.

“Look, Becks…”

“Just let me get the goddamn reader.”

“Becks, we can look through the building before we go back,” he says. “Maybe.. maybe there is someone alive in here.” He doesn’t really believe what he’s saying, and he knows that Becca sure as hell doesn’t believe him. Shaun’s been in a bad mood about this whole damned excursion and trying to be uplifting right now isn’t going to change that. She doesn’t move, and he looks at her visor staring in his direction, tries to figure out where her eyes are behind it. He adds, quietly, “Don’t leave me in a building with the dead, Becks.”

She sighs.

“Not by myself.”

She relents, turning on her heels to face forward again. “Fine. You win. For now.” She pauses long enough to grasp his hand before moving forward. If the armor wasn’t in the way, he might have intertwined their fingers just for the closeness of it. Shaun is just a bit of a coward when giant empty buildings are looming in front of him, something that started in childhood with countless horror stories and only got worse when they could find the dead lying at every turn. Having Becca there helps a bit, but it doesn’t make it any better when they find someone else.

At least it’s a Fed this time. The white armor catches the light coming in a nearby window. It’s the first one of the Federal Army they’ve seen and that’s either a good sign or a bad one, he can’t make up his mind. Becca pulls him past the dead Fed, heading for the stairs. The lights are on toward the back of the first floor, they’re on above the steps, and they’re shining over the railing over the second floor. That makes things a little better.

Halfway up the stairs, she stops. Completely freezes and her hand squeezes his tighter for just a second. He’s about to ask what’s going on when she whispers back to him, “Stay quiet. I hear someone.”

Shaun refuses to let himself think it’s one of their men. He follows her up slowly, moving as quietly as possible, thinking that it has to be a Fed - it has to. It’d be their luck to run into Feds.

But it isn’t a Fed.

It’s worse than a Fed.

Becca turns back to him at the top of the stairs. She’s recognized it too, but she sounds a lot happier about it than he does when they say in unison -  “Felix.” She laughs and pulls her hand from his to punch the chestplate of his armor. “C’mon, Shaun. He could help us. This is a good thing.”

Shaun grumbles a response. He flexes his fingers, feeling the absence of her hand, and follows her again. The second floor turns out to be a lot larger than it looked from the ground, full of short hallways and lots of rooms. It looks as if it had been laid out like some sort of private office. At some point, they lose Felix’s voice - or at least, wherever he is, the merc has shut up for now. It makes finding him a pain, leading to the two of them opening every door. They find a couple more dead Feds in one room, and he lets the door slam shut on them without really looking at them. Another one of their own lies in the next one over.

Eventually, Becca gets the right door. It’s half-open already, taking only the slightest touch from her to slide open completely. And then they freeze at the doorstep.

Felix is inside all right, sitting on a table shoved against the back wall. He’s not wearing his armor, just the undersuit. It makes sense though, considering that Felix is sitting on this table with his legs hanging loosely around the waist of another man. A man who also isn’t wearing his armor, a man who is gripping Felix by the jaw with one hand and by the waist with the other. Felix’s hands rest on this other man’s shoulders, lightly, barely touching at all. He starts to run one hand down this stranger’s chest slowly, wrapping his other arm across the man’s shoulders, pulling the two of them closer.

Kind of a feat in itself, seeing as Felix is being held tight against this other man. Felix is being kissed by this guy - this really strong-looking man - and it’s got to be one hell of a kiss. Because Felix, he moans then, a muffled noise that gets swallowed up instantly by the other man. A noise that sounds like it was full of nothing but pure urgency. A very sexual noise.

Becca squeaks. She turns so fast that she trips over her own feet and slams into Shaun. In the seconds it takes her to push away from him, Shaun watches the pair inside the room separate. Both of them stare instantly in his direction, and he joins Becca in spouting off apologies and backing out of the room. Becca’s just repeating “Sorry, sorry, sorry” in a high-pitched voice. Shaun is even less articulate: “I, uh - S-Sorry, didn’t mean… to… sorry.”

In no time at all, Becca and Shaun are standing back the end of the short hallway. The door to the room where Felix is stands open still, and both of them are avoiding looking back at it. It’s an almost painful urge for Shaun to just glance back - and he does, he caves and he looks back to realize that through the full open doorway, he can still see Felix. And the other guy, who has removed his hands from Felix and has yet to turn his gaze from the doorway.

He looks back at Becca and hisses, “What are we supposed to do?”

She’s looking at her feet, but she answers him automatically, “I don’t know.” A second’s pause. “We still need his help.”

“Need… need his help?” Shaun repeats slowly. “He seems a little bit busy, Becks!”

There is no way Shaun is going back to that room. Absolutely not. Let Felix mack on random guys, who fucking cares? But he is not getting in the way of that. He wants to forget he ever saw it.

Becca’s quiet for a while, and low voices from the room at the end of the hall fill the void. Then she says, “Hey… Who do you think the other guy is?”

Shaun stares at her. “Becks. What the fuck.”

She sounds like she’s only half-listening when she replies. “Shaun, I’m just curious…”

He doesn’t want to know what she’s thinking. He wants to leave. He wants to go home, he wants to take Becca by the shoulders and he wants to say to her that the mercenary’s life is none of her business. That her affection for the guy is getting to be fucking weird. That seeing Felix happily making out with some big, dangerous looking dude in an empty outpost should probably be a sign to just let him go.

What he says now is, “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

“I’m just saying,” Becca says, still with that air of not really listening. “That guy isn’t one of ours. I’ve never seen him around base, so…” She stops, leaving it hanging as if she expects him to answer. When he doesn’t, she adds in a hushed whisper, “What if he’s a Fed?”

“A Fed.”

“Yeah. Who else could he be?”

“Felix is making out with a Fed.”

“Maybe!”

Shaun stares at her. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out because there is no polite way to ask why the fuck she cares. He glances back at the door and all his irritation vanishes with a fresh wave of dread. There is no other way to describe it, the feeling crawling through his stomach.

At the doorway stands Felix, staring down the hall at them. There’s a smile plastered on his face but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’d be a charming look if he didn’t look so angry. He says, “Hey, guys. What are you doing here? Isn’t this a bit far from camp?” From the room behind him, the other man says something in a low voice that doesn’t quite carry all the way into the hall. Annoyance flashes over Felix’s face. “Shut up, I can handle this,” he says lightly. He doesn’t look away from the pair of New Republic soldiers, and his smile doesn’t waver.

Becca answers first. “We… we need your help with something.”

Felix’s smile falters just slightly.

“Sorry for bothering you,” Becca adds quickly. “We can, uhm.. wait…?”

“Yeah, there’s no need for that,” Felix says. “Kind of already bit that in the ass.”

“Sorry…” Becca repeats quietly.

Felix shrugs. “Eh, don’t worry about it.” He pauses, eyes closing. When he opens them again, his smile lights up his whole face and in that moment, Shaun can understand why Becca’s so into this guy. “Now… What is you guys need?”

_vi._

By now, Felix should expect that he can’t have privacy. A planet whose people are dying off, where there are empty buildings and huge forests everywhere - and Felix can’t catch a fucking break to save his life. Something  he should expect in the middle of a civil war, but seriously?

He’s used to being awoken unexpectedly, used to being sent to do things for the New Republic with two or three other people. He’s used to the constant presence of the rebels when he’s at their base camp. He knows that when he leaves on his own, there’s a fair chance he’ll either run into a group of Feds or some rebels. He can even, on occasion, stumble upon small groups of the pirates that are lurking around.

Not having privacy isn’t new.

Two  rebel soldiers walking into a room where he’s kissing Locus - yeah, _that_ is new.

He’s sitting there, basically wrapped around Locus and trying desperately to pull himself closer because it seems like he can’t get close enough. Locus is the one in charge, for now, at least. He holds Felix by the jaw, making it impossible for Felix to move his head too much. And that’s okay because while he busies himself with feeling in control, Felix can shut out everything else but the two of them and start to squeeze his thighs around Locus’s waist.

There seriously isn’t a way to get as close as he wants.

The moan that rips out of him was what gave it away, he’s sure of that now. If Felix had ever learned not to make such sounds when he was with Locus, those two idiots might have just turned around without making a sound. He never would have known they were there. He still could have been sitting there, enjoying the illusion of privacy.

Too bad that never happened.

What Felix has now is two idiot rebels stumbling over themselves in their haste to bolt back down the hallway. He has Locus taking his hands away, Locus starting to pull away entirely, and he frowns. Glares at the door before looking back to Locus.

“Wait,” he says. “This doesn’t have to be a problem.”

Locus ignores him. Nothing new about that, most of what Felix says is ignored and all right, okay, maybe he can understand it right now. It’s not as if they usually make out around people, and being found by anyone other than those black-suited bastards was basically ….well, it was not good. Locus hasn’t looked from the doorway, and Felix is pretty sure that if he doesn’t do something, those two idiot rebels are going to be lying dead in twin puddles of blood.

“Seriously, you don’t have to worry about them,” Felix says. He tries vainly to force Locus to look back at him. “They’re pretty stupid, y’know, in general – “

Locus sets his hands on Felix’s thighs. “Stupid or not,” he says. “They are a problem.” His grip on Felix’s legs is tight, fingers digging in deep enough that if he left them there long enough, Felix would have new bruises. He starts to pull Felix’s legs from around him, and Felix only tightens them.

“They don’t even know who you are.”

He looks from the door then, staring at Felix with only the barest hint of irritation. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know,” Felix says. “Seriously, these guys, you don’t spend all day with them. They’re stupid. The Republic soldiers don’t know who you are. Not any of the smarter ones, and certainly not those two out there. Without that armor of yours, they won’t ever know.”

“They’re a problem,” Locus repeats. “Whether they know who I am or not.” He moves his hands off Felix’s thighs long enough to clamp both on his waist and shove him backward. “It’s a problem I’m going to fix. You can stay here if that’s really what you want to do.”

Felix’s legs fall from Locus’s waist. He sits a few inches further from the edge of the table now, frowning. There really is such a distinct lack of heat once Locus has pulled away. “Oh, are you going to kill them? That’s an original idea.” He watches Locus walk toward the corner of the room where both their suits of armor are sitting, laid out on tables that line the wall. Locus’s all too familiar helmet is sitting next to Felix’s own.

At the armor, Locus lays a hand on his helmet before he says, “If you go back to them to tell of more dead soldiers, how will that look?”

He doesn’t need to answer. They both know how bad that would look, mostly because Felix complains about it often. Sure, he could weave some story about how he met up with these two kids and then Feds showed up, or he could blame the whole thing on Locus – either one would work. Hell, he could even say the idiots drove off a cliff and he arrived too late to save them. There are a lot of excuses, but none of them would change the fact that he couldn’t let that happen. It had been too soon since he had informed Kimball of a total loss, less than two weeks since he had come back alone.

“All right, fine,” he says. “I get it. I get the fuckin’ picture.” He pushes off the table, glaring at Locus as his feet hit the cold floor. “I’ll get rid of them - ”

“You’ll leave with them.”

“ – and then I’ll make up some bullshit story to get Kimball off my back about how long I’ve been gone. I’ll give the New Republic a reason to fight harder, it’ll be great.” He’s walking while he talks, not toward the door but over to Locus. Every word he speaks is laced with irritation and sarcasm. “Because, y’know, there’s no way we could make this work otherwise. No way either of us could figure out another way to get rid of them.”

“We have another way,” Locus says, turning to face him. “Either you leave with them, or they’re dead.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” He stops in front of Locus, mere inches between them. “Glad to see we’re on the same page here. Really. A third option wouldn’t be good, no, we’ve got everything covered.”

Locus doesn’t say anything. He reaches forward with one hand, grabs Felix, and leans forward to kiss him. It’s nothing like before, nothing long and languid – just brutal. Pretty much exactly like the bulk of their kisses, with the added bonus of Locus biting at Felix’s bottom lip before pulling back. “Get rid of them,” he says.

Felix nods slowly, glancing from Locus’s eyes to his lips and wondering if he could get another kiss out of him. He is about to go trailing back to the New Republic, and it was sure to be far too long before he could sneak off on his own again. Too bad that wouldn’t happen. He’s pretty sure that last one was Locus’s idea of one for the road anyway. “Right…” He steps back as Locus turns back to start pulling the pieces of his armor toward him. “I’ll give you enough time to get the armor on.”

Felix steps into the hall to talk to these two rebels that have completely ruined the rest of his day. It takes him a bit to actually look as cheerful as he sounds. When he asks what they need from him, they’re silent. He can hear the sounds of Locus locking more of his armor into place. Then, one of them, a girl, she says, “We’re looking for survivors.”

There are none, Felix could tell them that.

The girl is still talking, fast, like she thinks if she speaks quickly enough, everyone will just forget what happened. She recounts this whole story about her and this guy – Shaun, she says. His name is Shaun, and hers is Becca. She says that Kimball sent them to find out what happened to this missing squad of soldiers. Apparently they weren’t having much luck, even the bodies they had found didn’t match the numbers, and she was really hoping Felix would help them out.

“We were supposed to find you too,” Shaun adds when she finally stops talking.

Felix nods, a lazy grin spreading over his face. Before he can answer, he hears footsteps coming his way – heavy footsteps – and he glances back to see Locus fully armored. The blank face of his helmet stares Felix down from a short distance. “Give me a few minutes,” Felix says, looking back at the rebels. “Need to get back in the armor. Don’t move. Like, at all. Seriously.”

Becca nods, assures him that they won’t move an inch.

Felix slides the door closed on them, turning to face Locus. “Yeah? You good? Great. Go climb out a damn window.” He walks past Locus to start pulling on his own armor. “I wasn’t kidding, y’know. Going out a window is pretty much your only option, unless that cloaking of yours will hold long enough for you to stalk after us.”

It takes a little while longer to get all the armor back on than he had thought. Locus moves over to help secure the chestpiece, which should have shaved a minute off, but it’s still near ten minutes later before Felix is looking at Locus through the visor of his helmet. He grins, laughs, and says, “Call me?”

Locus sighs.

“That wasn’t a no.”

“Go,” he says flatly.

And Felix listens, striding past Locus to snatch his rifle from where it rests by the door.. When he opens the door, the cloaking is spreading over Locus and by the time Felix steps into the hall, Locus has disappeared entirely.

Felix leaves the door open.

He walks down to the rebels, where Becca is whispering quietly about the Feds. He walks past them, gesturing for them to follow him as he heads back for the stairs. He has this nagging feeling that even if he leads them off, even if they can’t recognize Locus by his face, this is not going to end well. He stops at the foot of the stairs, turning to face the two rebels behind him.

“I’m helping you two under one condition,” he says. There’s a sharp cutting tone to his voice that he doesn’t even bother covering up. “If either one of you says one thing about you saw here today, I will make your lives a living hell. And I do mean both of your lives – like, if one of you says anything – “

“Both of us are in trouble,” Shaun says. “Right. We got that.” He sounds annoyed as he speaks, shifting from one foot to the other. “Can we get going before night hits?”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Becca says. Judging by her voice, she’s smiling. “I swear to you, Felix, I won’t say a word. I mean, everyone has urges, right? Well, not everyone, but you know what I mean.” She keeps talking, babbling almost, perky and excited and when Felix turns to continue, she says, “So, was I right? That guy, is he a Fed?”

Felix freezes for a split second, long enough to hear Shaun groan behind him. He doesn’t answer beyond shaking his head slightly as he keeps moving, leading the two of them through the ground level. It’s darker than he thought it would be, shadows obscuring damn near everything – the dead soldiers, broken glass. Felix nearly trips over someone’s weapon and he stops to yank the gun out of a dead man’s hands. There’s a flashlight installed on it, so Felix slides his own rifle on his back and raises this one instead. “Look, childen,” he says lightly. “We have light.”

The beam illuminates nothing but gray walls and dusty floors the rest of the way to the exit. And, once outside, all three of them look up into the heavy dark clouds that obscure the skies. A storm. Lovely. Felix sighs and lowers the gun to his side; the flashlight settles on the ground, lighting up rocks and dirt. The two rebels move ahead of him, walking through the dirt to a Warthog that sits beneath the tree line.  “Were these clouds out when you guys pulled up?’ Felix asks as he walks after them.

“Some,” Becca says. “Not this bad, though.”

Felix thinks that maybe, if they’re lucky, all they’ll have to deal with is ten minutes of rain, tops. He thinks of Locus, creeping through the trees with cloaking enabled, and hums thoughtfully. Rain would make his outline visible.

This should be interesting.

At the Warthog, Shaun has climbed into the drivers’ seat and is waiting for the other two to join him. Becca is standing with one hand on the vehicle, ready to launch herself into the side seat when Felix grabs her arm. “You said the numbers didn’t add up,” he says to her. “What did you mean?”

“Oh!” She drops her hand off the Warthog, turning back to face him. Behind her, Shaun reminds them both that they should get moving soon. She ignores him. “We’ve found six, but Kimball’s report said seven. There’s one guy missing.”

Felix pauses long enough to open a radio channel to Locus – wherever the hell he’s gone. “One guy missing,” he repeats.

“Right. He could still be alive.”

Yeah, he doesn’t doubt that at all.

Felix had found the very soldiers these two were searching for about five hours earlier. They had gotten pinned down by a squadron of Feds that were equipped with far better equipment than rebel scouts. Six of the seven were alive when Felix found them, and two more of them died while he was leading them away, herding them to this second outpost. It had taken nearly an hour on foot for them to reach it, and there was another squad of Feds waiting then. Those were led by Locus, and in the ensuing firefight, the other rebels had died and Locus had ordered the Feds to leave. Said he was going to take care of Felix himself.

Except apparently they had missed one of the New Republic’s soldiers. One had gotten away and Felix has no idea where that one could be waiting. But there is also no telling what that one soldier has seen or heard, and if Becca and Shaun had come after Felix had pulled his clothes back on, then… Shit.

Felix tightens his grip on the rifle in his hands, raising it up again. He turns slowly, peering through the trees nearby. The flashlight tracks over the tree trunks. Becca watches him. Shaun does as well, giving up on the Warthog.

“Felix…?” Shaun says. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for our missing soldier,” Felix answers. “Before someone else finds him.”

He doesn’t look back at them, takes a few steps toward the tree line. There’s footsteps behind him, sounds of feet hitting the ground and hurrying through the dirt. “Someone else?” Shaun repeats. His voice is on Felix’s right now. “What do you mean ‘someone else’?”

Felix hesitates, not sure what to say that wouldn’t sound suspicious. Then Locus’s voice is filtering through the radio, reminding him of Becca’s strange assumption from earlier. He runs with it. “That, uh… that guy back there? Yeah, he’s a Fed, see, and I could convince him to let you two leave but if he finds this missing soldier, then you’re going to have to go back to Kimball and say they all died. That you arrived too late to help them.”

“What about you?” Shaun asks. His voice has risen sharply, tinged with anger. “Going to tell Kimball you were too busy making out with our enemy to help?”

Felix considers hitting Shaun in the face. It’d be easy, just raise the gun in his hands and slam it into the helmet’s visor until it cracks. Keep hitting him until his nose breaks, until his jaw cracks, and then shoot him in his face. Because Shaun is starting to tread into territory he should really just leave alone. If they were alone, he might have done it.

From his other side, Becca warns, “Shaun, shut up.”

“Becks - ”

“Seriously, Shaun, just let it go.”

“Let it go?! He was in there, with a fucking Fed, and you’re going to act like there’s nothing wrong with that?” Shaun is practically shouting by now, and Felix is getting really fucking annoyed with him.

“We’ve got a job, Shaun,” Becca snaps. “And it has nothing to do with Felix’s bad choices!”

“Listen to her,” Felix says. He waits until both of them shut up before adding, “And I don’t make bad choices. Just kind of have bad timing. Sometimes.”

There’s a noise in front of them, twigs breaking, and all three of them raise their weapons. Felix rests his finger on the trigger, focusing, and then a rebel soldier stumbles out. He’s favoring one leg, leaning against the trees. Felix doesn’t let go of the trigger. “Where have you been?” he asks.

Shaun and Becca have lowered their weapons, and Becca rushes forward to take hold of this new soldier. She slings one of his arms around her shoulders. “I… I was in the forest,” the soldier says, voice shaking. “Fled there during… during the firefight. Some Feds followed me. I managed to lose some of them, kill some others. But they shot me, and I…”

Neither Shaun nor Felix has moved an inch. “And you what?” Felix prompts. “What did you do, hide in the bushes for several hours?”

The soldier’s helmet is facing Felix, but there’s no telling who he’s talking to. “I didn’t mean to,” he says quietly. Thunder rolls overhead and it almost drowns out his words. “I thought I’d come back, see if anyone was alive, but then everyone was dead and there were… noises coming from... from the outpost, and – “

Felix curses quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shaun’s helmet tilt in his direction. Slowly, Felix lowers the gun in his hands.

“I think I fell asleep,” the soldier continues. He doesn’t elaborate on what he heard. “Either that or I passed out, but I woke up and I heard your voices. Please – please, you gotta help me. I can’t feel my leg and – and I think someone’s out here.”

Shaun grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘that goddamn Fed’. He slings his weapon onto his back and steps forward to help Becca with the soldier.

At the same time, Locus speaks through his radio: “Felix. Move to your right.”

To his right is the Warthog, and Felix shifts his weight, dragging one foot slowly through the dirt before moving toward the vehicle. Rain starts falling as he moves. “Not enough seats in the Warthog,” he’s saying.  “We’re going to have to find something else – ”

And then there’s a gunshot and Becca screams – out of surprise, he hopes. If she’s screaming at gunfire, she’s not fit to wear the damned armor. The second shot goes off as Felix whirls back to them and he watches as the soldier falls out of Shaun and Becca’s grip, hitting the ground. There’s blood seeping out of his side, and the visor on his helmet is broken. Felix throws himself in front of the other two, bringing up the hardlight shield in time to deflect a third sniper shot.

The rain’s falling faster now and for a few seconds, they stand in silence. Felix lowers the shield to bring his rifle up and orders the other two to do the same.

“Is it your Fed?” Shaun asks. There’s still anger turning his voice bitter even as he steps forward to stand next to Felix.

“No,” Felix says. “He doesn’t have a sniper.” He’s not lying, not really – Locus isn’t exactly a Fed. He sweeps the gun in an arc, narrowing his eyes at everything as the flashlight’s beam struggles to light up the surroundings. Everything is dark and silent, and he can hear the rain drumming against his helmet, against the Warthog, gathering into puddles.

Becca hasn’t moved from the dead man’s side. She says, “Then who - ?”

And then Felix catches it – the shimmer, an outline in the rain. He smirks. “Locus.” He fires a few rounds just to the left of where Locus stands. Hopefully he gets the point, moves further into the shadows before one of these two sees him. “Get in the Warthog,” he says.

Neither of them moves. More thunder booms and Felix repeats himself, yelling over the noise. Becca jolts forward – and another gunshot rings out. Then Becca’s screaming again, joining the thunder in making too much noise. He looks toward Shaun, or rather, at where Shaun is now kneeling in the dirt. His hands are on his stomach, blood covering his fingers. Becca is hunched over him, reaching for him.

Felix curses, swings up the shield again just in time to deflect more gunfire – faster gunfire, machinegun fire. Locus has switched from the sniper then. “Move,” he snaps. He leans down to take her by the arm, yanking her up to her feet. “We need to get out of here.”

“But Shaun – “

He shoves her forward before leaning down to pull one of Shaun’s arms around his shoulders. The rifle in Felix’s hands drops to the ground beside Shaun’s, and he’s completely defenseless as he drags the other soldier the few feet to Warthog. There’s an electronic reader in the seat and Felix pauses to shove it onto the floor of the vehicle before heaving Shaun into it. Becca’s climbing into the driver’s seat and she leans over to help pull Shaun in. Felix is letting go of him, giving all the extra weight over to Becca, when a burst of gunfire sparks up. Right after that, his shields register gunshots along his back.

_I’m going to kill that asshole_ , Felix thinks. He turns, searching the tree line. Nothing. He can’t see a thing but rain and shadows. He rushes forward to snatch the two rifles off the ground before running to leap onto the back of the Warthog. Becca takes off as soon as he grabs the gun, and Felix levels it to fire a slew of bullets near where he last saw Locus. If he hits him with a few, then the asshole deserves it.

Felix is not looking forward to explaining this to Kimball. Once the Warthog is far enough away, he stops firing, leaning against the gun. He says, quiet enough to be lost against the engine, “You fucking shot me,” trusting Locus to hear him.

His only answer is quiet laughter.


	4. the future's bright and alarming

_vii._

See, the thing is, she knew she was in danger before … _this_ even started.

Like, twenty minutes ago, when she had gotten separated from the group she was with, Becca knows she’s in trouble.

She’s with a squad, her squad, attacking Feds - and they’re winning. She forgets why they’re even fighting, like if this battle has a tactical point or if its just like - hey, there's the enemy. Kill them. Maybe the Feds just found them. Whatever the case, they’re engaged. She thinks they can win this battle, until the man beside her gets sniped right through his visor. And then suddenly, the Feds are overpowering them, it was as simple as that.

And the New Republic has no other choice than to flee. Full on tactical retreat. They sprint across open ground, diving from one cover to next until they reach the end of the forest. The Feds follow and she can hear their gunfire over her own harsh breathing and the footfalls of her squad.

She’s with them. They’re together.

Then they’re not.

Feds split them right down the middle, forcing them apart. Becca has two people with her and they try to run and fight at the same time. Both of them are dead under a minute, and Becca runs faster than she thought possible. She gets shot once, then twice. She keeps running because she’s not sure how many are behind her and there’s panic sinking into her gut and twisting there.

The building, she finds after what feels like hours. She thinks it offers safety. It’s deceptively small from the outside, built along a cliff side. Inside, hallways stretch into the rock itself and there are stairs that climb up and up, stretching into the cliffside. It’s a Fed base, it has to be. Everything in it looks far too fancy to belong to the New Republic. High tech, expensive equipment. Weapons that she’s never even seen before, gleaming silver and orange guns that are set out on tables carefully. She passes one that lies in three portions as if someone had walked away during gun maintenance.

Becca figures she can take enough time here to call someone for help, but when she tries, the systems are jammed.

She stands at the base of a staircase for five seconds, breathing harshly, feeling lances of pain shooting up and down her sides as she breathes. Gunshots, she remembers. Two of them, in her side. She’s lucky she’s still standing.

Then she hears footsteps, and snaps her head to the left in time to catch a small group of soldiers coming in from outside. They’re not the Republic, but they’re not Feds either. All of them are in black and they’re advancing on where she stands.

Becca flees upstairs without thinking. She runs past closed doors, locked ones, and dives into the first open room she finds. The door slides shut after her with a soft hiss, and Becca takes a moment to pause.

It’s a small room, made even smaller by the piles of boxes that line the walls. There are crates, closed and marked with some kind of symbol she doesn’t understand. It’s got to be some kind of storage room, a place for those strange black-armored soldiers to store extra things.

 _Are they even soldiers?_ she wonders. She casts a frightened glanced back at the door behind her, edging away. There are footsteps coming down the hall and Becca panics. She turns, scanning the room - and there. The corner furthest from the door. Boxes are arranged in a way that create some semblance of cover and she dives behind them as the door hisses open again.

It’s where she sits now, five minutes later. Her legs are pressed to her chest and she’s holding the sides of her helmet, trying and trying to pretend she’s not here and she isn’t hearing this happen.

She is not in any way, shape, or form trapped in a room and listening to sounds of pleasure coming from Felix of all people.

Becca would like to sink into the floor now. Or the walls, really, she isn’t picky.

***

Felix is shoved against the wall by the door before he really even has time to register Locus moving. He pushes against Locus, but there’s a hand in his hair yanking his head back and Locus is biting down sharply around the base of his neck. Felix’s grip relaxes just slightly.

It’s been months since he had last snuck away from the rebels, months since he’d let someone lay their hands on him like Locus is doing now. The bites and the bruises healed and disappeared long ago,  and he has no problem getting more. He’s used to them, used to the marks and the bruising and the looks they get from rebels who see them for the first time. Too used to them, maybe, judging by how eager he is to get more.

Not that Locus isn’t eager about this either. He may be better at pretending he’s not, but no one strips out of armor that fast unless it’s for a damn good reason. Felix shed his armor quick as well, but that’s usual. No matter that he only pulled the pieces off once Locus had yanked him forward and kissed him long enough to make the pirates in the room uncomfortable. And when the pirates had left and they discarded the armor, after Felix had pulled out of the top half of the undersuit, Locus had pulled him into this room.

This small, cluttered mess of a room.

It’s not a place anyone would be in, Felix can tell. A room that gives them the freedom to fuck without someone barging in. Of course, going out of their way to do this is for the benefit of those black-suited bastards because Felix is sure he wouldn’t care if someone walked in while Locus was fucking him.

He’s also sure that Locus wouldn’t even stop.

Okay, yeah, something about that just seems really hot. Felix pulls at the suit still covering Locus’s shoulders. “Care to speed this up?” he says. “Take off your clothes, fuck me, let’s go.”

Locus eases one leg between Felix’s, pushing against his groin, against the growing erection there. Against Felix’s throat, he says, “You act like you have somewhere to be.”

“Uh, yeah, I do. Don’t know how your side of things works, but I have to get back before Kimball decides to roast my balls for dinner.”

Then a hand settles at his throat, squeezing lightly. Locus pulls back from his throat, leaning close. “No, Felix. Right now, you’re mine.”

Felix thinks that he must be extra horny today because that shot to his groin as well. He grinds slightly against Locus’s leg between his thighs, biting at his lip as he does. “If that’s the case,” he says lowly. “Then shut up and fuck me.”

Instead Locus kisses him, lips moving slowly against his, like a direct contrast to the urgency he feels. His eyes slide closed,  reveling in the kiss, in how Locus’s hands run over his throat and down his chest. Nails dig into his skin slightly and Locus bites at his lip. Felix bucks against the leg between his thighs and gasps. And then Locus’s tongue is in his mouth and he moans, pulling the other man closer and grinding against him with more speed.

They separate, Locus going back to adding more bites and bruises along Felix’s neckline. He hasn’t moved an inch yet but Felix can feel the erection resting against his leg - alright with him, really. If Locus wants to wait forever to get off, he can. But Felix needs this. He’s panting, groaning, pulling at Locus’s hips, practically begging to be fucked.

And then over Locus’s shoulder, Felix catches movement in the corner of the room. He focuses as best he can, not stopping his movements. Behind a pile of boxes in the corner, crouched and partially hidden, sits a rebel soldier. He identifies that armor instantly and when the helmet turns in his direction, he realizes that whoever that is, they’re watching this happen.

Felix grins, laughs - although that quickly fades into another groan. He doesn’t take off his eyes off the rebel in the corner as he says, “Just take off your pants already, will you?”

To think that he had just thought about this sort of thing, about being watched while Locus pounds into him. Goddamn, what a thrill this’ll be.

Locus growls against his throat and even that makes him want to be fucked. Definitely too horny today. Felix licks his lips, grinds slowly against Locus again, and tries to muffle the whine that pushes out of his throat.

As Locus settles his hands on Felix’s beltline, fingers easing under the fabric, Felix says, “I got somewhere to be, you know I can’t stay around here forever waiting for you to stop being a teasing fuckwit.”

“Are you really that eager to go back to them?” Locus pulls back from his neck again, sliding one hand slowly into Felix’s undersuit. “I would have thought you’d want to stay here.” His fingers slide over Felix’s cock, smirking. Felix squirms under his hands, and Locus adds, “You can leave now, if you really want to.”

“Can you stop being an asshole for, like, one day?” Felix snaps. “I don’t want to go back to them, I just want - ” He stops, biting on his lip again to bury the fact that that sentence was going to end as _‘_ _I want you_ _’_. Seems like Locus knows anyway judging by the self-satisfied way he was staring. “Just… fuck me,” Felix growls.

Locus leans forward to kiss him again, ignoring his protests and how Felix’s hands push at his shoulders. When he pulls back, he starts to slide the suit further down Felix’s legs.

Felix has enough time to shoot another glance at the rebel in the corner before his pants are pulled down. And then Locus is kneeling on the floor in front of him and Felix stares. “Holy shit, are you serious?” he says, irritation vanishing in a second. To be honest, he could probably count the number of times he’s gotten a blowjob from this guy since they landed this job on one hand - and all of those were in really awkward times. Like when a group of Feds were around the corner or Control was pestering them for a call, and each of those times Felix had tried (and failed) not to make any noises.

Maybe the pirates would count as making this an awkward situation, but since Felix didn’t care about them, he didn’t count them. Those idiots hearing this wasn’t embarrassing anymore, everyone has moved on and-

His cock is in Locus’s mouth and his train of thought ends abruptly. It’s not exactly sex, not the kind he wanted, but goddamn. Locus is good - very good, way too good - and every little thing he does is forcing noises out of Felix. He thrusts forward once without thinking, bucking into Locus’s mouth, and as if the tongue on his cock wasn’t enough, Locus growls low in his throat and slams a hand onto his hip. Pressed into the wall, Felix actually whimpers.

Since he can’t move his hips, Felix leans forward, hands bracing on Locus’s shoulders. Curses and strings of words mingle with the noises, with the pants and the gasps. And then he says, just once, “Holy shit… Locus…”

The rebel in the corner, their head snaps back to him, and though Felix sees it he doesn’t register the movement because Locus has got him reeling. The rebel doesn’t move again and Felix doesn’t think about them - he doesn’t really think about anything. One of his hands is sliding down Locus’s back and his legs have damned near given out.

He may have forgotten just how good Locus was at this.

Locus’s name gets thrown in with all the curses and nonsense that’s spilling out of his mouth.

Seconds before he comes, Locus pulls away and Felix whines at the loss. Then there’s a hand on his cock instead of a mouth, stroking hard and fast and when he comes, it’s over Locus’s fingers. Felix sighs, leaning back against the wall to catch his breath. He watches Locus wipe his mouth with the hand that isn’t stroking slowly over his softening cock.

When Locus turns away, moving to find something to wipe his hand off with, Felix pulls the suit back up. His breathing is evening out again, and he relaxes against the wall. His eyes slide back over to the rebel crouched in the corner. Hasn’t moved, still folded in around themselves. Felix smirks, exhaling slowly.

Locus comes back with clean hands, leaving a rag lying on boxes as he does. He takes Felix by the shoulders, leans down to kiss his jawline softly - and then shoves him roughly to his knees. He doesn’t speak because he doesn’t have to; Felix knows exactly what’s expected of him. Just because he gets off first doesn’t mean Locus is going to let him leave without receiving a blowjob. Even if Felix half-assed the whole thing, it’s still going to happen.

Felix slides Locus’s pants down, taking the other man’s cock in his hand. He strokes once and Locus threads one hand into his hair, fingers raking against his scalp. He strokes again and Locus thrusts into his hand, says, “Get on with it.”

He wants to laugh but he doesn’t because he probably sounded needy as shit. Compare that to one order from Locus, and Felix was an embarrassment. So he takes a breath, leans forward and slides his mouth over Locus’s cock, closing his eyes. He moves at a casual pace, licking slowly, and then one time he scrapes his teeth lightly along the length of it and Locus slams his hips forward. Felix makes a muffled noise, pushing at Locus’s hips - but not at all with the amount of strength that's holding his head in place.

So Felix tries his hardest not to gag as Locus slams his cock into the back of his throat. He still licks along it, sucking and moaning because he knows that’s what Locus wants from him. And he can tell when Locus is about to come, tries to pull back - and ends up with a mouthful despite his trouble.

He waits, tongue sliding around Locus’s cock through the mess in his mouth.

Locus says, “Swallow it, Felix.”

Felix makes an angry noise, pushes Locus back. The hand wound into his hair keeps him from moving back though, and he sighs. Swallows. Locus slides out of his mouth, fingers kneading through Felix’s hair as he chokes the rest of it down.

“You’re fuckin’ gross,” Felix mutters.

Locus is putting himself away. He leans down, smirking, and runs his hand through Felix’s hair once more. “You should be good to leave now,” he said, resting his hand on Felix’s jaw and lifting his head up slightly. “Aren’t you glad?”

Felix swats his hand away, making a face. The taste of Locus’s cum is still way too powerful, lingering in his mouth. “Shut up and find me something to drink. Something with a lot of flavor, if you don’t mind.”

Before he leaves, Locus pulls Felix forward and kisses him softly on the forehead.

Weird.

The door hisses shut behind him and Felix stays where he is, kneeling on the floor of this dinky little room and wondering why Locus can go from mindblowing blowjobs to shit like forehead kisses. He makes another face, licking his lips and frowning. After a few moments, he stands, glances at the corner. He’s going to leave, going to find Locus and make sure he’s not going to try and pass off water as a good drink to get the taste out of his mouth. Probably have to go back to the Republic.

Maybe he can sneak in extra time just to eat and lounge against Locus, absorb some comforting warmth from the bastard. If he can catch Locus before the armor goes back on, at least.

He pauses by the door, looks back at the corner. The rebel is still cowered there. He says, “Wait. I’ll come back for you.”

The rebel makes a strained noise in response and Felix walks out of the room with a smile on his face. Locus and his damn perfect blowjob had distracted him, but that idiot rebel had to sit through that whole thing. Made the whole thing even better.

_viii._

He didn’t come back for nearly twenty minutes, which is alright as far as Becca’s concerned. She stays in the same position, hands gripping her helmet tightly. Her face is burning, her side is throbbing, and all she can think is that at least they didn’t actually have sex.

She shifts slightly, winces at the pain that shoots up her side, and lowers her hands from her head. Now that they’ve left, now that there’s no more of Felix’s moaning drilling into her skull, she tries to focus on getting out of here. Because she can’t stay here, not with her injury and those weird people in black. She had only seen four before, and if there really is just four, she might have been able to outrun them ...if she wasn’t injured.

It takes a few seconds before the next realization hits her and then the flush that had been slowly easing away explodes again in full force.

Becca groans, tenses in the corner, and drops her head into her hands. She wouldn’t be able to run away no matter what shape she was in. This goddamn building, whatever the fuck it is, will be her death sentence.

Locus is here.

Locus is here, and Felix was moaning his name, and now that’s all she can think about. That her mercenary - the saving grace of the New Republic - let himself be pinned against a wall and _holy shit_ _,_ Felix had asked Locus to fuck him.

Becca exhales slowly, reining herself back in because this is a bit too much at once. “Ohh my god,” she says quietly, squeezing herself tighter into the corner and ignoring the pain in her side. “Oh my _god._ This cannot actually be real.” She had thought at first that it was just that guy, the Fed that Felix had been messing with last time she had found him in the field. The one that he had made out with in a building all those months ago - and oh my god that Fed was Locus.

Holy shit.

She sits and she thinks, and her face is burning again. Badly. She doesn’t want to believe that Felix has been meeting up with Locus to have sex, but she doesn’t see any other way around it. What exactly that means, she isn’t sure she wants to know.

A hand slams into the wall beside her and she jumps, looks over and cringes back. Felix stands there, fully armored, and he says, “Enjoy the show?”

And Becca, the first she can say is “Ohhh no.”

Felix’s head tilts, and even though his face is hidden by his helmet, Becca still doesn’t want to look at him. “So you didn’t enjoy it? Well, that’s a damned shame isn’t it.”

Becca shakes her head, laughing nervously. Jolting away from Felix sent lances of pain through her side and she reaches over to touch the wound carefully. Even when she pulls her hand away and sees blood on her fingers, what she thinks is that Felix had seen her and he had fucking grinned and he had wanted her to know what was happening.

This is officially the most fucked up thing she has ever had to deal with. She can’t focus on the wound in her side and the blood on her hands without Felix’s weird perversions pushing to the front of her mind.

“Are you injured?” Felix asks. He’s sitting on a box nearby, watching her.

She pauses and nods, not trusting herself not to ask something awkward if she speaks.

Felix curses and she hears him moving around. When she looks up, he’s rooting through the closest boxes and shoving them around as he does. He’s making a lot of noise and Becca glances back to the door nervously. After a couple of minutes, he sits up straight again, holding his hand out to her. “Here. Biofoam. Not a lot of it, but you’re not getting mine so…”

She takes it, desperate for anything to ease the pain. At least take the edge off. But he was right - it is not a lot of biofoam, and after using what little there is, she leans back and waits for it to take effect.

Seconds tick by and neither of them moves.

Her heart is pounding because it’s awkward even sitting next to the guy now. Christ, she used to hound after him, seek out opportunities to do anything with him - _he’s such a charming asshole_ , she thinks now. A charming man that she’s heard moan the name of someone he said was his enemy.

Before she can stop herself, she says, “Was that Locus?”

And without hesitating, he answers: “Yeah… Yeah, that was Locus.”

More seconds of silence.

“You wanted him to fuck you,” she blurts out. “Jesus Christ, Felix, what the fuck?”

He sounds like he’s laughing when he speaks again. “Pretty sure that’s self-explanatory. See, when you ask someone to fuck you, you generally want to be fucked.”

“But- You said he was your enemy!”

“Yeah, yeah… He is. He’s an asshole. Can’t stand him.”

Becca glances at him through her visor, eyes narrowing. He’s not even looking her way, head turned toward the door. “Usually people don’t want to fuck their enemies, Felix.”

Instead of answering, he stands. Takes a few steps forward. “Yeah… look, I’m gonna go make sure we’ve got a clear path out of here,” he says. “You’re still injured, no need to get yourself hurt more. I’ll be back in ten, then we can leave.”

Becca nods and agrees but before she’s even done talking, Felix has left the room again. She stands slowly, stretching, only wincing slightly at the pain in her side. It’s almost completely gone, just a dull ache and throb if she moves too fast. She learns that after sliding out of the corner, when the sharp movement lights her side on fire again. The room is quiet, no sounds coming in from outside, and Becca moves slowly out into the middle of the room.

She can go home. Back to the New Republic, where one of the medics can fix up her wounds, and then she can eat and relax. If the wounds are bad enough, she’ll have a day or two off to recover. And all that means is that she’ll sit somewhere with that idiot Shaun and entertain herself until boredom sets in. At least she’ll get a lot of sleep in.

She’s still standing there when the door slides open several minutes later and Felix leans in. He gestures for her to follow him, silent. She nods, jogging after him down the hall. Neither of them speaks as he leads her past the staircase she had come up. There are voices below, none of them recognizable, and they fade away quickly as she trails after Felix.  

He leads her down polished halls, to the point where the sunlight and windows are replaced by glaring lights overhead. The staircase they take down exits in a garage, a huge garage with far more space than it really needs. There’s only three Warthogs sitting there and Felix jumps right into the first one. She climbs in after him and he says, “Stay down. Anyone sees you and you’re dead in one shot.”

Becca hunches down as best she can in the passenger seat as he drives off.

It’s several minutes before he motions for her to straighten up, and by then there’s no sign of the building at all. Just barren land stretching out around them, trees on the horizon marking the beginning of the jungle.

And right then, Becca drops back to what they had been talking about before, like they hadn’t even stopped. “Look, I just don’t get it. Out of all the people you could fuck, you choose _Locus?_ ”

Felix sighs. “I know it doesn’t make sense. If it helps, try not to think about it.”

“But you were kissing him, and it’s Locus - and you moaned his name, oh my god…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t think so hard about this. Don’t want your head to explode before we get back to HQ, do we?”

Becca ignores him. She remembers Felix’s face when he was moaning and panting, the look of pure ecstasy she saw before she had looked away. “How long has this been going on…?”

Felix doesn’t answer.

“Please say the answer isn’t a long time.”

“It’s an off-and-on thing,” he says. His voice has lost all of that casual air he usually has and Becca is pretty sure that’s a bad sign. “It’s not like I’m working with the guy, alright? Just a casual fuck every now and then.”

“He’s killed more of us than anyone else!” Becca says, voice rising. The Warthog slows and she casts a look around at the land, frowning. “Why are you stopping?”

Felix drops his hands from the wheel, pulls the pistol from his side and has it pointed at her head in a second. “Sorry, but… You kinda saw something you shouldn’t have. And since you’re not going to shut up about it, I’m afraid you’re gonna die here. No hard feelings, alright? I kind of liked you. You weren’t that bad of a soldier.”

Becca’s heart drops. There is nothing - not a goddamned thing - in his voice, in his body language that says this isn’t serious. But it doesn’t make sense and confusion floods through her. Felix is on her side, he doesn’t just murder people for no reason. Felix helps the New Republic, he just said she was a good soldier.

There is a gun pointed in her direction and she stills. Through the whirring mantra of _“This seriously cannot be fucking happening”_ that spins through her head, Becca gets caught on one thing, one stupid little thing.

‘You saw something you shouldn’t have’, he had said. But… he was the one who could have stopped and he didn’t.

Becca swallows hard, and raises her hands slowly in the air.

She thinks that none of this is her fault.

Felix pulls the trigger twice. The first bullet cracks the visor, the second one breaks it, and Becca screams as shards of the glass embed in her face. Felix is moving now, almost standing to brace one foot on her chest. Then he pushes her over, sends her to the ground. She screams, “Felix -! Please, _don'_ _t!_ ” as she falls.

The gun goes off again and she dies before she even hits the ground.


End file.
